


Rule Number Seven

by RunawayWithMeTonight



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Adultery, Alternative Universe - Human, Cheating, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 12:44:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunawayWithMeTonight/pseuds/RunawayWithMeTonight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ara (Nyo!England) is has been married to her husband Francis for a long time. The two of them have a preteen son Peter. With her husband always on business and Peter no longer needing her constantly Ara feels unwanted and seeks out the local golden boy Alfred. The two begin an affair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Something I originally wrote for the Hetalia Kink Meme two years ago and originally de-anoned on my livejournal account shortly after writing the fill. You can also find this on my ff.net too... So if you recognize the story then those are the reasons why.

Mrs. Ara Bonnefoy had lived a typical life for the past forty years. She had been born in a typical English family, went to school, gotten a job writing an advice column for a news paper, fell in love, gotten married, moved with her husband to the United States, had a child, and generally lived her day to day life with very little of anything terribly interesting happening to her. It wasn’t as if she didn’t want to do exiting things, oh she had plenty of urges to drop everything and run off and join a punk rock band. But those urges were impractical and she was a practical woman. Even if she had given her readers impractical advice in the past from time to time, or advice that was daring, they were things that she would never do.  
  
Ara was quite comfortable with her life. She lived in a good neighborhood in the suburbs of Washington DC. Her job paid well, writing an advice blog for a news site, for something that didn’t take too much time. Her husband, despite the fact that they argued often, was a good man with a good job (even if he was French). And she had her son Peter who went to a good public school and he was only nearly thirteen. There would be plenty of time after he was away at university to do more daring things, if she felt like doing so in the future. She wouldn’t do anything to ruin the typical comfortable life that she lived, even if things had her feeling like she really should.

 

* * *

  
Ara woke up the way she normally did, on her half of the bed curled up. Francis, her husband, had been gone to France on another business trip. They were trips that he happily took (after all he was a Parisian by birth) and his company had been sending him there more and more often. She slid out of bed, then quickly tucked in the sheets pulled placed her pillow where it belonged, smoothed out the floral comforter and laid the white lace edged blanket in place over it all. The bedroom she shared with her husband looked more like something out of the house of an eighty-five year old woman, but that old fashioned sort of thing put Ara to ease, even if her and Francis argued about the bedroom’s furniture and décor often, it was completely worth it. She took a shower in the master bathroom and got dressed before walking down the hall. On her way down the stairs she knocked on her son’s door to wake him, he had an alarm clock but refused to use it.  
  
Ara made her way to the kitchen, it was one of the room’s that Francis had claimed, everything about the room was very much him. Positively chic, from the paint on the walls, to the appliance and furniture—it all looked like something out of a catalogue. She sighed making her way to the stove and filling the ever present stainless steel kettle with water before setting it on the stove. Her eyes shifted to the clock it was a quarter after seven, stifling a yawn she made her way to the base of the stairs and called up to her son, “Peter let’s get moving! You’ve got fifteen minutes until the bus gets here!” There was shuffling and banging, but the kettle was whistling so Ara went to finishing up making the cup of tea.  
  
As she sat at the kitchen table sipping at her drink her son came down the steps in a pair of faded jeans and a t-shirt, his blond hair in a mess. “What time is it?” he said going straight to the pantry for his usual Poptarts. Ara knew she should probably make a healthier breakfast for her son, but he—like his father—hated her cooking and complained, plus if she just continued to buy the toaster pastries it meant they could both sleep in a little later.  
  
“Good-morning to you too”, She said in a bored tone.  
  
“Seriously—“ he looked back at the clock, “—shit!” he ran out of the kitchen.  
  
“Peter you shouldn’t swear—“, she raised her voice to sold him, though the effort was futile.  
  
“See ya mom gotta run.” The boy called as he slammed the front door behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

The next couple of days, Ara spent the way she normally did doing things in her usual manner, only now she was concerned far more than usual about what exactly Francis was up to. He was in France sure, and she was certain he was working after all she had access to all of his bank accounts, after all—like most married couples—they shared the same bank accounts. His job was paying for his hotel, air fare, and his meals as long as he didn't go somewhere too opulent; odds were that he was eating meals at his parent's house. Ara knew that if she were on a trip somewhere close to his parent's home she would surely eat dinner at his mother's house, the woman (despite how much she complained about her daughter in law) was a wonderful cook. Despite the fact that at this point he'd gone to France so often he might as well just move there this was the first tie Ara had really been obsessed with what he was doing.

Sure in her younger years during his first business trip she'd been worried about his well being. Was his plane ride safe? Was his hotel good? Was he eating enough? Did he get enough sleep? She was so worried he'd never return or when he did get back he would be a total wreck without him. She had run the long distance bill up calling his hotel room and the office he was working in every other hour, but after he'd survived that initial trip she was basically fine with him being gone and when the two would argue she'd even crave for him to go back to France ASAP.

Now she was sitting at home obsessing over what he was doing exactly. He couldn't have been up at two in the morning just to call her and check up on how she was and how Peter was doing. He was always so quick to flirt with other women too, and he had always been like that. She had been quite jealous when they were still dating and he would walk up to some girl on the street kiss her hand and say something in French. Even if the girl hadn't known what he had said she would still giggle and Ara would always stand there glaring daggers into his back. She was a rational woman though and would never blame the female who'd caught his eye for those brief moments, just because he'd wanted to play a prank on his wife and annoy her. But he would never cheat would he? As far as she knew he'd always been a loyal husband… but that was as far as she knew and in France he wasn't under her careful eye, he could be running around with various young women half his age using that charm of his, the thoughts about his fidelity was causing her to go mad. Should she all him and accuse him of being unfaithful? No that would be ridiculous and cause an unnecessary argument. He was probably just flirting like he always did.

Ara sat in the kitchen well after Peter had left for school. It was nearly eleven and she hadn't gotten to doing her work, she was just sitting there in the kitchen questioning her husband's loyalty to keeping the vows he had made to her and frankly even questioning her own. She had to admit that she was feeling lonely. It had been so long since she'd seen her husband and well they had had sex. She was getting older and he was as well. She still had to admit that she found her Francis to be extremely attractive. Who wouldn't he was tall, had amazing thick blonde hair to his shoulders with a slight wave and no signs of starting to gray any time soon, there were his gorgeous blue eyes, the stubble on his chin, and the fact that he had just the right amount of body hair to be a man without going to the point where it was unbearable and disgusting to her. He was always finely dressed and wore a good not too over powering cologne that gave him an aura most women found irresistible. And then there was the way he would whisper the sweetest French words in her ear as he touched her in just the right way. Francis was a perfect man by anyone's standards. Yet somehow, now she was feeling rather bored with him; he was the only man she had ever felt as in love with as she did once before (and honestly even now), but he still didn't seem like enough. Comparing herself to him, with her long blond hair kept in a common hair style, forming laugh lines, body with ever expanding hips, breasts that had lost the perkiness of her early twenties, and her ever expanding eyebrows (those were the Kirkland family curse, everyone on her father's side of the family had inherited them; her son Peter had as well) it was amazing that Francis in all his perfection and charm had not yet grown bored of her. That was if he hadn't yet. After all there was a whole entire different half of his that she'd never seen his half in Paris. For all she knew he could have had a pretty little French girl in the midst of her prime.

"Je t`aime mon petit chou." Ara could see and hear her husband whispering against the girl's ear. She was a pretty little brunette with short hair that curled into her round slightly childish cheeks. Her lips were a pale rose pink, and her eyes large and blue. The girl was finely dressed in a little black dress, with her legs and arms bare. As he whispered his endearments in her ear she giggled.

"Oh Monsieur Bonnefoy—" she started but he stopped her pressing his lips against hers before they parted and he stroked her cheek with his hands lovingly looking into her eyes.

"S'il vous plaît appelez Francis." He corrected the girl kissing her knuckles.

She nodded then would whisper, "Francis. Mai ce que ta femme?"

"Ma femme? Elle est une femme ordinaire qui ne me mérite." He laughed along with his cruel words.

Ara slammed her hand down on the table and shook her head. Here she was imagining the seduction of some poor girl who probably didn't even exist. But still she could see it so vividly and just knew it could happen and it would be just like that. She had to do something—there had to be something she could do! Then it struck her. She needed to act before her did, she needed to be with a man before he could call her and tell her that it was over that he was staying in France to live with his new wife and that he was going to have his child and he was going to be happier with her then he'd ever been with Ara. She had made up her mind. She was going to forget the vows she'd made to stay loyal and true, because what was the point if he was going to not uphold his end of the promises made on their wedding day.

Now there was the matter of going about cheating. She had to worry about what the neighbors would see and unlike Francis she couldn't just run around. She had Peter in the house and while he was lacking luster when it came to his grades he wasn't an idiot and would surely notice his mother having strange men over to the house. Then there was the matter of who to have the affair with. Ara only really had one friend, and that would be Kiku, and there was no desire of hers to be with a woman; and the thought of betraying Kiku and sleeping with her husband Heracles was enough to make her sick. None of Francis's friends were satisfactory either. Gilbert was a hooligan troublemaker who she swore was albino. He was a troublemaker, she could still see him horribly drunk at the Bastille Day slash birthday party for Francis last year. There was Antonio, a handsome Spaniard who always wore a smile. But he was very loyal to his with Lovina—even if all she did was yell at him. Plus he was far to loyal to Gilbert. It had to be a man who was decent and not one of her husband's friends… she couldn't just run off with a random guy, she had to have self-respect about the whole thing. He had to be good-looking, and someone decent. But most importantly she had to be the one in control. Who though would fit that?

Ara thought for a moment. The internet was a vast place and there were plenty of times ads had popped up for dating sites and even sites for people looking to cheat on their spouses. But that was such a shady thing to do. People could pretend to be anyone or anything on the internet. It wasn't hard to dig out an old photo and put it out there for the world to see claiming it was you now. Well okay maybe not that old of a photo clothes and image quality could easily be looked at and tell you what the age of the photo was give or take. But you could always use the photos of other people. And what would she say? "Married English woman in the DC area, blonde hair, green eyes looking to cheat on her French husband because clearly he's already cheating on her with some little young hussy already." That kind of ad was ridiculous and surely only the most depraved of souls would surely answer it only.

Ara looked out the window for some kind of distraction. The mail man pulled up and placed the Bonnefoy letters in the box. Once he'd drove off she decided that going out for the male would be a great distraction from her thoughts of adultery and she headed out. "Hello Mrs. Bonnefoy!" a voice called from the side walk as she headed down her driveway.

Ara looked up to see the grinning face of Alfred Jones. He was a young man everyone in the neighborhood knew, not only because all of the young boys idolized him for his athletic abilities, but because he was also brilliant in school winning awards and scholarships, and had classic good looks; blonde hair, blue eyes, a damn near perfect smile. "Hello Alfred. Shouldn't you be in school right now?" She said pausing at the mail box.

He stopped, "Nope. Today's a day off for seniors since the underclassmen are doing their SOLs."

That's when the thought hit her. "Sorry to bother you about this, and it is a bit random but…"

"No problemo. What is it?"

"I was wondering if you have a job. You'll be going off to college soon right so you'll need some money for books and things."

"Well, the scholarships will pay for the books, but I could always use some extra cash." He grinned.

She had to get him into her house somehow. "Well Peter's been slacking off in school and a couple of weeks ago my friend Kiku— Mrs. Karpusi—suggested that I get him a tutor. He needs the most help in science and math. Would you be interested in helping him out? I know it's almost the end of the school year and summer's coming up, but I'd like him to be ready for the new year."

Without even a thought his smile grew bigger, "Of course!" he was always eager to play hero.

Ara felt her heart soar, a huge grin spreading on her face. "How about you come over Saturday afternoon?" Francis was going to be gone still and Peter had been invited to go to Six Flags by friends… Alfred didn't have to know that though.

The teenager nodded, "Sure thing. I'll see you then?"

"Wonderful. Bye bye then." She waved and he headed off. Ara felt her heart racing more then she'd ever felt it race before. Quickly she grabbed the mail and hurried into the house. Step one was to select who it was she would commit the act with—and she had. Sure he was young, but what did it matter—the one Francis was with was young too. Ara bit her lip and felt good enough to get to doing some work.


	3. Chapter 3

Ara began another typical day in her oh-so-normal suburban life. The only variation being that Peter had tried to play sick because he’d not finished a project or perhaps stayed up all night playing video games (she was unsure which was the reason but knew her son well enough to know it was one of the two). As she sat on the couch with her computer on her lap she began to do her work by reading through the emails. One though stood out far more than any of the others did though, and much more so then many others she had answered in a long time.  
  
A woman had written her:  
  
 _Lately, I’ve been feeling like my husband no longer loves me. The two of us are so distant from one another, to me it seems like all that matters to him is work, and well with me always driving the kids from place to place and taking care of our home and children I’m afraid that I’ve been running out of ways to show him that I need him still (you know in that way). The worst thing about the distance that’s grown between the two of us is how lonely I feel. Back when we were closer, I felt so beautiful, I felt like I was the most important thing not only in his world but in the whole world. I’ve aged quite a bit, I can see the wrinkles on my face forming, I know I’m not as thin… and the fact that he seems to care about me less as I get older makes me feel like I’ just not important to him anymore. Sometimes I feel like I could runaway and never look back.  
  
I must confess though that there is something that seems to hold me back from leaving my life behind. There is a man who I’ve known for just a short while now, but he’s so nice to me, and says things that make me feel like the young beautiful woman I once was. The thing is I’ve been having fantasies about an affair with him, and I have a feeling if I brought it up he would say yes without hesitation.  
  
My question is: should I cheat on my husband with this man who makes me feel good about myself? Or should I just go on living my life the way that I have been?_  
  
Ara honestly could relate to being lonely, but an affair? She bit her lip rereading what was written, there were plenty of times that she had felt alone, after all Francis was away so often. She placed a hand to the laugh lines that had formed on her face, she’d aged rather well, despite being forty now she could pass for still being in her early to mid thirties—but Francis had aged well too, he looked younger than he was and he was five years older than her. Unlike many women her waistline and hips hadn’t suffered too much, sure she couldn’t fit the jeans she’d worn twenty years ago, but it wasn’t like she’d ballooned or anything. But this woman was talking about adultery. That was something you just shouldn’t think about let alone do—yet Ara could still sympathies with this writer, she saw where the desire came from and knew how easy it would be for her too—she quickly shook her head and typed up a reply to the emailer’s question.  
  
 _Everyone feels lonely sometimes. That’s just a natural part of being alive. We’ve all also have wondered about what it would be like to be with another person, someone different then our significant other. But just because we have these feelings and someone who is willing to participate in acting them out with us doesn’t mean we should follow through with these urges and desires. I too am a married woman, and I like all married women, including yourself took certain vows as part of becoming a married women. It’s our duty to honor and uphold those vows, one of them being to be committed to our husbands no matter what. My advice is simple, don’t follow through with your urges to have an affair.  
  
I would suggest that apart from not acting on your desire to be with this other man, you shouldn’t continue to live your life the way that you have been. I advise that you find an activity that you enjoy to help with the tension of being a wife (perhaps a healthy hobby) and talk with your husband about the way that you are feeling about your relationship. Perhaps the two of you can take a trip together and reignite the flames that made you two fall in love in the first place._  
  
Ara continued on with the rest of her work, that one letter though still in her mind, posted the update to the site and quickly got ready. She was going to meet her best friend Kiku for lunch at twelve thirty. As she drove to the café that one email was still solidly on her mind. Sure the weather outside was rather lovely, the lawn needed to be mowed, maybe a new grocery trip was in order and the school year for Peter would be ending shortly, but none of that was what she thought about. All Ara could think about was the idea of cheating. She loved Francis, he’d shown himself to be a wonderful husband, and it wasn’t as if there was anything missing from their sex life—well at least when he was home. They would have sex rather often even though they were both in their forties, which she supposed was more often than many people did and when he was around he did make her feel good… but he wasn’t around that often. It had been nearly a week since she last spoke to him and two weeks since she’d seen him. Plus he was such a flirtatious man. There were many jealousy fueled fights back when they were dating and even through their marriage where she’d been furious with his friendliness towards other women. Who knew what he was up to in Paris. France was another country, he could have been having an affair for years now, he could have had a whole entire other life there, another family. What if that was the real reason why he was always going to France and the business trips were just a continent cover up—she shook her head trying to get rid of those thoughts as she pulled up at the café she was meeting Kiku at. There was no need for thoughts like that. She was going to get out of the car and have a pleasant lunch with Kiku—she could see the woman already seated outside under one of the yellow umbrella’s smiling and waving at her, she waved back—and put ideas of such things out of her head. She was a married women, she had a child with her husband and a good life. Doing anything to ruin that would be idiotic.  
  
“Kiku.” She said brightly getting out of the car and making her way to the table.  
  
The other woman stood up and smiled as a greeting. Despite the fact that they considered each other to be best friends there were never hugs or any kind of physical greetings, she had retained that lack of physical contact aspect of being Japanese. “Ara,” her smile was warm as they took their seats, “I hope that you don’t mind that I choose a table outside.”  
  
“Not at all, the weathers been so pleasant lately that I’ve been meaning to enjoy it.”  
  
“I feel the same way, but work’s been kind of crazy lately I’ve not had the time.”  
  
“How’ve you been?”  
  
“Fine, but we just gotten into really planning the autumn festival for the year, and there is all this talk of venders and making it out to be a bigger event, more like the Cherry Blossom festival. And that just passed, you know that’s the busiest part of the year for us.”  
  
Ara nodded, it was true in early spring she rarely got to see her best friend, “How’re Heracles and Michael doing?”  
  
“Heracles has been sleeping as much as he usually does. I don’t believe for a moment that he’s not narcoleptic still,” the two women laughed, “And he’s been feeding more cats off the back porch, you know the usual sort of thing. Michael’s been doing fine, if you don’t mind my boasting he’s been getting straight A’s in his classes.”  
  
“I wish Peter would get better grades, he puts all his energy into videogames and avoiding school work.”  
  
“Maybe you should get a tutor for him?” Kiku suggest as the waitress arrive to take their orders a pitcher of water in hand and a tray of baguette slices.  
  
The two women quickly ordered their meals and after the woman left. “Maybe.” Ara said with a sigh bringing the conversation back, “Though that may make him resent the whole thing more and cause problems.”  
  
“That’s true. And you would know your son far better than I do!” she giggled, “Oh how has work been for you, not too difficult I hope.”  
  
“Is that a jab at me?” she laughed, “It’s been the same as always not too tiring, though today I got a rather odd email.” Kiku looked interest as she took a sip from her glass of water, “A woman was asking what I thought of her cheating on her husband.”  
  
“Really? That’s such a—I would assume something people don’t think about, but I guess some people do, after all there are plenty of men and women who have affairs.”  
  
“I thought the same thing, but you know I can see where it would come from, the desire to do it.”  
  
“I couldn’t imagine ever cheating on Heracles. Even with all of his faults he’s such a good man and loving husband.”  
  
“Well the two of you do have sex often—“  
  
The women turned a bright shade of pink, “Ara please such things are not decent to have in a conversation. How you found out about that I will never know!”  
  
The English woman laughed at her friend, “Sorry. I couldn’t help it. Anyways the two of you see each other everyday anyways. If someone’s not as close with their spouse they may feel like it would be something that could make them happy.”  
  
“You would never—“  
  
“Of course I’d never!” she sounded offended, “I was just saying as someone who’s husband is so often away on business I can see where the desire would come from.”  
  
“Honestly I’d rather talk about something else.” Kiku said nervously looking away.  
  
The two of them changed the topic of conversation to their sons, and continued on with lunch keeping the conversation as far away from adultery and that sort of thing as possible. It was an overall pleasant visit. When they were done with their meals they parted. Ara returned home and Kiku went back to work.  
  
  
After dinner the telephone rang, Mrs. Bonnefoy finished with the dishes answered it in the typical greeting. “Francis!” she said hearing her husband’s voice, her eyes glanced over at the clock it was past seven her own time so in France it was after one, “What are you doing awake still?” she asked never missing a chance to scold him.  
  
 _“I’m talking to you ma charie.”_ Was his reply followed by a laugh.  
  
“You could have called earlier; you know I’m home most of the day.  
  
 _“I know but that would be too easy and less romantic.”_  
  
“Always concerned with what’s romantic huh?” she leaned on the counter, “Is there something wrong?”  
  
 _“And you’re always so direct. How did a women like you end up with a Frenchman?”_  
  
“Luck I guess. Or lack of it.” She joked.  
  
 _“Oh that was cruel.”_ But he laughed as well, _“I suppose sine you’re so direct I’ll have to be as well, I’ll be staying another week.”_  
  
Ara sighed looking at the calendar on the refrigerator. He was supposed to be back on Friday. “Okay.”  
  
 _“Is that all you have to say? No begging for my return?”_  
  
“What would be the point of that?”  
  
 _“To make me feel more loved. Well if you’re done with me, I love you.”_  
  
“Do you want to talk to Peter?”  
  
“Of course.” He said sounding rather cheerful.  
  
Ara made her way to the stairs and called up them. When Peter took the phone she went back to her spot in the kitchen, made herself a cup of tea and sighed, cheating would be so easy, she thought looking back at the calendar, she lifted up the pages, Summer was coming up and in June alone he would be gone for two weeks, in July a little less time than that and in August nearly the whole month was shaded in with days he would be gone. Ara would end up spending a lot of time alone.


	4. Chapter 4

“You can go with Raivis on Saturday.” Ara said as her son came into the house. She hadn’t looked up from her computer and called to him from her spot on the couch as he entered the foyer. There was the sound of Peter entering the living room, she quickly hanged the tab on her internet browser from looking up lingerie, to her email.  
  
“Really mom?” he asked, but before she could reply he’d already pulled out his cell phone, most likely to text his best friend.  
  
“Of course.” She said turning to look at her son from over the back of her seat, “But you have to go—“, there was sound of him receiving a text message. He pulled his phone out and began to type in his reply, “—I have plans and if you decide you no longer want to go you’ll ruin them.  
  
“I’m not going to cancel.” He put his phone back in his pocket and gave her a look as if he thought she was a total idiot, “What are you going to do anyway? Going somewhere with Mrs. Karpusi?”  
  
That seemed reasonable enough for her to agree to, it was a lie but it was logical. “You know how boring your mother is. Michael is having a violin recital.” She added the other woman’s son in mostly because she knew how much the boys disliked each other.  
  
“That sounds like it’s going to suck.”  
  
“So you’ll be going with Raivis? If not you’ll have to come along with me.” There was no way her son would back down from his trip to the amusement park. He could wake on Saturday with a fever, throwing up, and on fire but he’d still go. Ara just insisted on making sure he would be gone. What would Peter think of her if he were to come home to her having sex with the boy that he had one idolized. Well that was her getting ahead of herself, she still had to seduce the teen and hope that he wouldn’t run off and tell everyone what she had tried to do to him. It would ruin her life, how old was he anyway? Oh well her marriage would certainly be over if Francis found out she’d tried to cheat on him with Alfred, the local golden boy. She mentaly shook those thoughts out of her head, if it wasn’t for Peter being in the room she would have done it physically… but she didn’t want to seem like she was insane to her son. “Go do your homework.” she said turning back to the computer to pretend like she was working again.   
  
“I don’t have—“  
  
“No lying. Just go up stairs.”  
  
He shrugged then left the room without really saying anything. Halfway up the stairs she heard his phone go off again. That boy really did like to send text messages. Thank goodness they had an unlimited plan. When she heard his bedroom door close she went back to her tab looking at fancy panties and bras. She would be purchasing the lingerie from the store, there wasn’t nearly enough time before her “meeting” to order the items she needed off lone, she just needed to do some research. It had been a very long time since Ara had purchased underwear other then the functional cotton panties in a six pack at Walmart. Spending fifty plus dollars on a pair of underwear that were meant to only be worn for a few minutes before being removed for the actual sex seemed rather impractical. But after her research on how to properly seduce someone, she’d learned that the right lingerie could do wonders.  
  
That was something back in her youth that she had known. Sure Francis was flirtatious and one always ready for sex (even more so then most men) when she was trying to conceive Ara had bought plenty of lacy-fancy-panties all to spice things up worth her husband in hopes that it would lead to more sex and that more sex would lead to the birth of a child. It had, and after Mrs. Bonnefoy had had her first child she was content with herself and hadn’t really put more effort into having anymore resulting in the fact that Peter was an only child (it wasn’t like she’d taken any precautions with Francis to stop the conception of a second child either—it just hadn’t happened). That was all so long ago, and those undergarments had been thrown away and even if she had still owned them her body had changed since then; her hips had grown wider from child birth, aging, weight gain, and all the other usual things that caused women’s bodies to change over tie. Her breast weren’t the same size and shape anymore, They were still round, but had begun their decent though there was no need to call them saggy yet, just not as perky as they’d been before.  
  
As she looked through the pages of scantily clad women Ara couldn’t help but think of all the gifts she’d received from her husband in the form of lingerie or little costumes to possibly spice things up in the bedroom. She’d refused to wear the costumes. They were just plain embarrassing. She was far too old to dress up as a naughty school girl (a traditional costume for bedroom role playing) and had refused to wear it. He’d shown up with a French Maid costume after that. Again Ara had refused. There was also the police officer, pirate, nurse, firefighter, and lifeguard costumes; all were put somewhere deep in the closet. Seeing how it was all intimate wear they were non-returnable, throwing them away seemed wasteful, and she would be positively mortified if Peter had ever found any of them (and the poor boy would surely be traumatized). There was also the lingerie he’d purchased. Originally when Francis had wanted to give his wife a “sexy gift” it had been with fancy panties, lacy thongs, and other such things. Those weren’t nearly as embarrassing as the costumes, and after she’d refused so many of the outfits he’d gone back to the lingerie. But the Frenchman had gotten daring with those things and had purchased crotch less numbers, this just defeated the purpose of underwear and Ara had placed those in the back of the closet as well.   
  
Being the practical woman she was, the first thought she had had was to go and recycle some of her sexy under garments for the seduction of Alfred. Then when she thought about cheating on her husband wasn’t a practical thing to do, so why not go out of her way to choose something a little more interesting, and well something new. She wouldn’t want to make the poor boy think that he was just a side thought and not worth a new ensemble meant for the bedroom. There were so many different styles to hose from as far as lingerie went, the majority of them were skimpy little numbers that would look best on a thin little thing still in her prime, things that would expose far too much skin if she was going after a guy so youthful as Alfred. Odds were that any girl he had been with had been well, still in her prime. Thin little things, with perky breasts, not a single wrinkle and didn’t need make-up to look Fresh and youthful, because they actually were.  
  
Ara sighed deleting the browser information and closed the lap top. She was starting to get nervous about this whole thing now. She needed to get all of the second thoughts out of her head.  
  
  
Ara looked over all of the lingerie on display. She had ruled out anything that showed off too much skin. Though she wasn’t fat or even chubby her hips still had stretch marks on them and possibly her rear-end as well. That left fewer options that she would had hoped for but more then she expected. “Could I like help you find anything?” the sound of the young man working’s voice started her. He was blonde and well dressed with a name tag that read _Feliks_.  
  
“Oh I uh—do I look that lost?” Ara asked with an uneasy chuckle. Standing there in a lingerie shop and being asked for help was something to well make her feel more then slightly embarrassed, but right now she really did need help it was almost noon and she still had to go to the drug store and her appointments.  
  
“A bit.” Feliks giggled, he then added, “A lot of women like you are confused.”  
  
 _Women like me?_ Ara thought, surely this boy didn’t know that she was planning on cheating on her husband with a an young enough to be her son. “What do you mean?”  
  
The young man looked a bit confused, “Well like women who are _older_ —like no offence meant by that… but you are like kinda older.” Had he just apologized and insulted her in the same breath. She didn’t want to think about that too much or she would get angry. All Ara needed to do was buy the lingerie and get on to her other tasks before Peter got home. He would surely ask questions about her purchases, “Anyway what exactly are you looking for, something sexy? Something innocent but still like totally sexy? What’s your man into?”  
  
 _What she looking for?_ What was she looking for? “I’m afraid I’m not quite sure what he’s into.” It was true she wasn’t quite sure what his preferences were. She knew that he had dated a couple of girls well she was pretty sure he had. After all he was athletic and handsome, extremely charming, charismatic, basically the kind of guy everyone wanted to be or wanted to be with. “But I know what I want.”  
  
“Oh that’s totally fine. Just so like you know, even though I’m sure you like already totally know this—guys are happy with what they get, period. Like I tell all t costumers who aren’t sure what they’re doing that, so like you can’t go wrong.” He touched her shoulder and leaned in closer to her, “This is more for you then for him honey so what you’re totally comfy with is way more important, kay!” this guy was really rather cheerful.  
  
Ara nodded, “Well I want something that covers me up… but not like too much and something not too tight.”  
  
He placed his hand to his chin, “What are some areas you want to show off and like that you want to cover up?”  
  
“I want to cover my hips I suppose, and my breast aren’t what they used to be so a lot of support there—“  
  
“Hmm would a bustier be too much?”  
  
“Well I’m afraid I’m not curvy enough for that.” They both looked her body up and down.  
  
“Oh it’ll give you curves if you put it on right. It gives me curves, and I’m a board!” he laughed, “How about a baby doll or chemise? They’ll both over up your hips… and if we went with a baby doll with an underwire and some padding you’ll get support. Though that means you can’t go sheer. And well you’ll have to wear the right heels and stockings to make it sexy.”  
  
“I suppose that would work out well.” She said thinking about it. In her research the women were all wearing heels, but that meant she had to make another stop, the ones she had weren’t the kind people would wear during a seduction, “About the color I’d like something blue… like a conservative blue.” She thought Alfred would like that color, and a brighter blue reminded her too much of her husband. Ara also thought of the color red, but red was far too flashy. Black crossed her mind for a moment, but that was too somber.  
  
“Okay blue baby doll with loads of support… I can actually totally do that! Gosh you’re so like totally lucky.” He hurried to the back corner and returned holding what she requested for her out. “Here this’ll be like seventy five dollars with the taxes and junk, I’ll sell you the stockings to go with it for only an extra twenty so ninety-five total.”  
  
Under normal circumstances Ara would have freaked out. That was nearly a hundred dollars for something she would wear once. But this wasn’t normal. She quickly paid and hurried out of the store she had to buy shoes now too on top of everything else. The shoe store trip was quick and easy, while the black heels she found weren’t the kind a prostitute, porn star, or some other kind of loose woman would wear they were still high enough and strappy so they would pass (where did one buy shoes like that anyways?). She then had her eye brow appointment (the things were quite wild) she was tempted to add on a waxing of somewhere ore intimate, but that would be far too embarrassing so she decided against that). There was no one more stop… the drug store.  
  
There were things that needed to be bought, things that the Bonnefoy’s didn’t keep in their home… mainly condoms. Mr. and Mrs. Bonnefoy weren’t the kind to use precautions against having another child. Neither one of them were against the idea of another baby in their family, and using them would take away the spontaneous mood that Francis preferred. As Ara stood in the aisle of the store she couldn’t help but think of her husband and what he was like. She sighed, was he stupid enough to not use them with his little Parisian fling Monique (the name she’d dubbed the fictional woman her mind had created). Well unlike her husband Ara wasn’t an idiot and would be making sure she was prepared. There was only the whole, determining what size to buy and what style. She had no idea what Alfred had in his trousers, and she didn’t want to make assumptions that would either get her too excited or well insult the boy. She sighed and reached up grabbing one of each size they had of just the plain old boring condoms. Then headed to the check out, the girl behind the register just starred at her, not really saying anything a blush on her cheeks, Ara paid without a word then went to the car. It was nearly two thirty now, she needed to beat her son home and find a hiding place for what she’d bought.  
  
  
The next morning Ara had woken up, given Peter money for his trip and the moment the boy was out the door, she’d locked it. There was so much to do, and so little time to do it, the house needed to be cleaned again, well not completely ever since peter had began to love videogames and grew out of playing with toys, the main rooms had remained clean… but still she felt as it they were in no way good enough. She went through dusting the living and dining rooms, vacuumed the carpets and mopped the floors of the hallway and rearranged things. The shoes that normally sat on the mat near the door had been removed and place in the closet. With the common rooms in place she cleaned the bathrooms next and changed the sheets on the bed she was supposed to share with only her husband but was hoping to share with another man in just a few hours. With her house in order she had to prepare herself next.  
  
Ara got into the shower washed herself carefully using the expensive body wash that her husband had brought back as a gift from France after his last trip, shaved her underarms and legs and washed her hair. Once clean she got out of the shower and got to work on her hair, what was there to do with it? Leave it be curl it up? Put it in a pony tail or bun? She settled on just drying it and pulling it back into a pony tail leaving it a bit messy, it was the way she’d seen a lot of teenage girls wear their hair before and even on those websites when she was doing her searches, some of the models looked fine with their hair in that way, and put on some make up. It was just something simple, some foundation and canceller, eyeliner, mascara and some lip stick in a matte faded red. She put on the lingerie she’d purchased the day before, it didn’t look half bad on her, that Feliks guy did seem to know what he was talking about, but that she supposed came from the fact that he did sell women the things for a living, so he would know what he was ding, wouldn’t he? She tossed on one of her simple dresses over the ensemble, and put the heels on. Looking at herself in the full length mirror the shoes and stockings didn’t quite go with the dress, but before she could change the door bell rang. She quickly glanced over herself again, then hurried to answer the door.  
  
“Coming she called” descending the stairs _Here we go Ara_. She thought with a deep sigh as she fixed her hair one last time and opened up the front door revealing the one she had done all of this for.  
  
Alfred looked more gorgeous then she’d remembered, there was something about that natural tan, wide muscular shoulders, huge never faded perfect smile, beautiful blue eyes behind glasses. He was dressed in just a T-shirt and a pair of jeans a normal outfit for anyone his age, though she had half expected to see him in the kind of shorts boys his age wore, after all it was summer, but she was quite fine with the jeans. “Hey Mrs. B.” he said brightly with a grin as she stepped aside to let her in.”Where is Peter?” he asked stepping in.  
  
She gently closed the door noticing that she hadn’t gotten a manicure, but it was way too late for that. “He’s not here.” She said locking the door, “I thought today it could just be the two of us and that we could well talk.” He looked a bit confused, unless you don’t want to talk.” She steered him into the living room.  
  
He followed and took a seat on the couch, without being told he was allowed to. “Oh no, it’s cool. I guess that little chat on the side walk wasn’t really enough. So what does he need help with exactly.”  
  
“Honestly,” she said with a little shrug “way too many things for you to be the only help he needs. I don’t doubt that you’re a bright young man, but the boy’s also quite lazy I don’t think you can fix that.”  
  
“Oh well uh what does he need help with school work wise.”  
  
“He’ll be studying biology come fall…” Ara moved herself so that her thigh was touching Alfred’s she felt and saw him tense up, “…but I was wondering about something—Alfred do you have a girlfriend?”  
  
“Not right now.” He said looking nervously at Mrs. Bonnefoy, “We broke up after prom because Angelique’s going to a school far away from mine, so there was going to be a whole long distance thing—why?”  
  
“I was just curious.” She said turning to look at him and placed a hand on his shoulder, “But that makes me happy to hear that you’re single now.” She smiled, that was good to hear so he didn’t have a girl currently, logically he’d have less hang ups about everything she was about to suggest.  
  
“Oh.” Was all he said looking at her, then he tilted his head to the side, “So if that’s all should I go then?” he didn’t seem to be too comfortable.”  
  
“Don’t go.” She held onto his shoulder then moved herself so that her knees were in the couch on both sides of his legs, “I have more things to ask.”  
  
He gulped looking rather nervous. His arms were tense at his side as he looked up at the woman who was straddling him. She could tell that the way she was acting was having an effect on him, and one in the way that she desired.   
  
“What do you think about me Alfred?”  
  
“What are you doing?” he asked.  
  
That wasn’t an answer to her question but she decided to answer it anyways pressing a kiss against his lips. At first it was just a small testing peck, but when the boy seemed to press back against her lips she parted them partially he followed her lead and his separated. She pulled her mouth away from his and what sounded like a wine from a puppy came from his lips. Ara’s grin was full on and the lids of her eyes were low as she looked down into his eyes, “Alfred I’ve been a lonely woman, and something about you makes me feel like you could fix that.”  
  
He looked up at her eyes somewhat wide. This was all knew territory to him, he’d never had an older woman come onto him like this. Well at all. He was used to high school girls flirting around with him, but he was a good boy and didn’t go around kissing on ones he wasn’t dating. But there was something about Mrs. Bonnefoy that made him feel like he just had to kiss her back and if he understood her correctly then this was heading into completely new waters, “I can?” is all he said looking up at her.  
  
She nodded, “Yes, yes you can.” She smiled kissing him again, this time with far more passion moving her tongue into his mouth and taking his hands placing them on her hips, she parted them and that wine came from him once again. He didn’t want her to stop, and in that instant Ara decided she wouldn’t regret her actions at all. She moved her lips so that they were right by his ear then nibbled it. Between her little bites she whispered against the skin. “Tell me Alfred have you ever been with a woman before?”  
  
She gulped and shook his head, “No ma’am.” She was expecting him to say yes or something like that. She heard about the way youth were now-a-days. How teenagers were having sex younger and younger and doing more and more daring things, and her she was straddling the local golden boy who turned out to be a virgin.  
  
Ara grinned a little wider, “That’s alright, I am willing to teach you everything you need to know.”


	5. Chapter 5

Alfred kept his hand on her hips and looked up into her half lidded emerald eyes. He was positively mesmerized despite the fact that she was still clothed, and in such a boring typical dress. Ara felt the smile she wore grow, she could feel the power she had over the boy spreading throughout her whole body. She moved herself higher up so that her breasts were closer to his face, then in a low tone (she was careful trying to keep it as seductive as possible like the women in the videos) said, “I hope you’ll be as good a student with me as you are in school.” She then lowered herself so that their lips met again in a passionate kiss. She could feel his soft young pink ones were getting swollen from all the activity.  
  
He nodded vigorously in a child-like way, “Yes Ma’am.” Then he added quickly, “I’ll do my best.” In his usual polite yet determined tone.  
  
The thing that really got to Ara was that Alfred had called her ‘ma’am’, there was just something about him referring to her as ‘ma’am’ that gave her even more power, and with that power she placed her hands on his shoulders and shoved their mouths together again, nibbling on his bottom lip when he needed breath and slowly running her hands down the front of his body. She was careful not to actually touch his skin, but she could feel the muscles of his chest and abdomen through the cotton of his t-shirt. With each second she could feel herself getting more and more desperate. She had to admit to herself she was feeling very much like a teenage boy. As her hands moved down she lowered her body and rested her hand on his groin. Alfred gulped, and she grinned feeling the strain of his erecting through his jeans.  
  
“So quickly.” Is all she said softly with a grin and stood up. They were still in the living room, it wasn’t safe to actually strip him and herself here, it was too easy to be caught on the first floor.  
  
A moan of want left his lips, and a whisper of “No.”  
  
Ara smiled biting her bottom lip in a playful way then slowly moved her eyes from Alfred to the stairs. His eyes followed hers and he realized what she was doing. She extended her hand to him to help him out of his spot on the couch. Once he was up she lead him by his wrist up the steps and into the bedroom that she was supposed to only share with Francis (but she was so sure that her husband was sharing his body with some pretty little Parisian thing, so this wasn’t so bad). When the door opened Alfred spoke, “This looks like the room I sleep in when I go to my grandma’s house.” That had made her lose some of that power she’d gathered up, was he calling her an old woman. There was one of his cheerful laughs, and she had to laugh too, though hers was more of an uneasy one to avoid any kind of awkward tension. She needed to gather her strength back up. He spoke again, “Wait… don’t we need…” a pause before he whispered, “condoms?”   
  
Ara couldn’t help but laugh at that. He’d actually whispered the word “condom” as if he were in middle school or something. Didn’t boys his age say that word often, and didn’t they love dirty jokes. But well he was a virgin after all so maybe that was the reason why he felt the need to say the word so quietly. “Don’t worry about that.” She said keeping that tone she’d decided to use since the kissing on the couch. She moved herself to her side of the bed and lowered herself onto the bed, removing from the nightstand a single condom (guessing on the size from what she’d felt through his jeans). She kicked off her heels then laid herself in the bed, “I’m prepared.”   
  
Alfred practically bounced into the bed, his smile was huge, and he really did seem rather excited. “Awesome.” It was all he could say before Ara had moved him so that he was laying on the bed, on top of the comforter upper body laying back onto the pillows. She then hiked up the hem of her dress so that it folded up and rested on her hips exposing the top band of her blue thong ever so slightly. The dress wasn’t super tight, but fitted enough so that when she lowered it, it didn’t fall too much lower. Picking up each one of his hand one at a time she rested them on her hips so that his thumbs were somewhere above the bands, then she quickly leaned forward so that his hands slipped back to grab her ass.  
  
“What a natural.” She laughed seeing him blush ever so slightly as she pressed their lips together in a kiss, then whispered against the corner of his mouth, “Do you know what to do next?” he shook his head, “Any guesses.” He shook his head again. She sat up and looked down at him, he seemed to be saddened by the fact that their bodies’ were no longer pressed together, “Undress me.” She mouthed. He read her lips perfectly and quickly sat up better to pull the dress off of her, fully revealing the sheer baby doll lingerie she wore. When he moved his hands to remove the bra, she slapped his hand away. The look in Alfred’s eyes was rather confused. “I want us to be evenly matched.” Ara said placing her hand on his chest and lowering his back onto the pillows.  
  
Once he was laying back down again she shifted off of him and took a spot to the left side of his legs. Looking him up and down, “Really Alfred, I would expect you to know better than to wear shoes in the bed.”  
  
“Sorry Mrs. Bonnefoy—is that what you want me to call you?”  
  
She thought for a moment about it. Should she be tainting her married named with such formalities? But he was so young that hearing her given name come from his lips would sound awkward, or even wrong. Plus he knew here as “Mrs. Bonnefoy” not “Ara”, and certainly he didn’t know her maiden name “Kirkland”. She looked at him and cupped his cheeks with her hands, “I think that’s best.” She pressed a kiss to his lips, then moved herself down to take off his shoes. He looked unsure but nodded.   
  
Once his shoes were off she went to taking off his jean shorts. Straddling his body again she faced away from him. She felt and heard his gasp and her lower body was place in his view, Ara turned her head to peak over her shoulder she could see the excitement on face and all of his sexual want and desire, she’d kept him clothed long enough. And leaned herself forward to unzip the clothing with her teeth, then with nimble fingers undid the button, “Alfred darling will you please life up your hips.” She didn’t turn to look at him but got the feeling he had nodded, before obeying, and she slid the pants down his thighs before leaning down to breath hotly onto his erection through his underwear. He made a moaning sound. Ara reached back and picked up the condom that was laying next to his body.  
  
She slowly slid his underwear down, Alfred lifted his hips and she was able to move the cloth down his thighs with more ease, and exposing his hardened cock to the air of the room, causing the boy to gasp. She looked back at him, he was biting his bottom lip. Using her teeth she quickly tore open the package and lowered her hands to roll the latex down around his penis and into place, “Really this bit is self explanatory.” She moved herself over so he could see what she was doing as she used her left hand to hold him in place and the right hand held the condom between her index and thumb, “Pay attention, I expect you to do this next time.”  
  
“N-n-next time?” he said with difficulty.  
  
“Yes. Now pay close attention.” Despite the fact that it had been many years since Ara had required the use of condoms she remembered how to correctly put the thing on her partner, and with a smile on her face took her position over his lower abdomen, so that if she were to lower herself down her ass would rub against his hard-now-latex-clad member. She raised herself higher and placed his hand on her hips careful to tuck his thumbs under the band of her thong, “Remove my underwear—so that we’ll still be evenly matched.” He nodded and did as he was told. She grinned then moved herself so that he could slide into her, after lining everything up she slowly slid down onto him, he was gasping and she was biting her lip.  
  
One she’d gotten herself into the position she’d wanted Ara began to ride him, but not slowly at first; right away she went into full speed causing the boy beneath her confusion but he quickly caught on and took her hips in his hand attempting to get into the same rhythm as her until the two matched up. “Mrs. Bonnefoy—” he moaned and she bit her lip staying silent. The movements he made were more spermatic and her lost the control of his muscles. She could feel him twitching inside of her as he came and she panted out his name.


	6. Chapter 6

Alfred was laying in Ara’s arms, his head resting on her chest as she half laid against the pillows stroking his hair. The poor boy had been exhausted, after all it was his first time having sex, so it made perfect sense that he wanted to sleep. She had to admit she didn’t mind holding him like this, every time she’d slept with Francis and before him her previous lovers she was the one that had been held. But with all of them they had been the ones to take charge. Here she was the more experienced partner so it was her duty to be the one to do the holding, and cooing, and just generally being tender as he regained his energy. She had to admit that she was jealous of him though, not because he was quietly laying in her arms, but because his deflower had been so much less awkward then what hers had been. Things for Alfred had gone much smooth, there was no hair suck under someone, or pinching when a limb was ground into a place it was most uncomfortable to have a limb ground into. And she knew what she was doing after years of practice (really she’d been having sex since before he was even born). And there was no shame, the kind of shame that left you embarrassed mostly due to how awkward the whole thing had been and how it wasn’t like in the movies.  
  
He moved a little bit and his eyes fluttered open, he was awake from his nap. “Good Morning.” Ara half cooed as she continued to stroke his hair.  
  
He suddenly sat up, which caused the woman to be rather startled, “It’s morning?” he looked around frantically, “Mom’ll kill me for being out all night and not telling her, where’s my cell— Mrs. Bonnefoy it’s not funny!” she was laughing, then his eyes fell on the lock, it wasn’t even three in the afternoon yet. “You tricked me!” he said settling back down in the bed.  
  
“I did not. I just thought that ‘Good Morning’ was the greeting people used when someone woke up.” She got out of the bed and went to her dresser to get dressed, Peter wouldn’t be home for hours still, but she needed to start getting back to normal. She didn’t want to rush Alfred out of the house, it would make her feel like she’d used him for her own selfishness more then she already was feeling. There were things to do still. Like wash the sheets and try rid all the evidence. She tucked strand of hair behind her ear and looked over at the teenager, laying in the spot she was supposed to have reserved for only the man she’d married, and that’s when curiosity had hit her, “Alfred…” she started taking a seat at the foot of the bed, “Why were you still a virgin.” He’d stated earlier that he wasn’t saving himself for marriage and was perfectly okay with losing his virginity. But Ara wanted to know why it was that he had remained one. She knew that he had had girlfriends, he was after all a very handsome young man, smart, oozing with charismatic charm, athletic, and the golden boy of the neighborhood. He was a teenage boy, and if there was one thing Ara (along with the rest of the world’s population) knew about teenage boys, it was that they were thinking about sex twenty-four-seven. There were surely more than a hundred opportunities for him to do the deed.  
  
He shrugged. He sat there and shrugged, then said, “I don’t know.” Ara looked at him confused, so he continued on, “It’s not like I didn’t want to, you know… because I totally wanted too… but” he shrugged again, “I don’t know.” There was a sigh, “I mean when I was dating Nataliya I totally was thinking about it constantly. She was smoking hot, and a total foreign babe, like she was Russian and looked just like the kind of chick who would be a model. But she was super intimidating.”  
  
“Were you afraid of her.” Ara asked she laid on her stomach feet dangling off the bed and her head propped up on her hands. She wanted to know everything about the girl, now that he mentioned her, and about every girl he’d ever dated.  
  
“No way! I’m not afraid of anyone!” he puffed out his chest, “It was just like she was scary strong, and I thought about getting it on with her and all, but I thought she’d snap off my dick if I even suggested it.”  
  
She couldn’t help but laugh. He looked at her like she was cruel, but then a second later laughed too. “Who else was there?”  
  
“Angelique was totally cool.” He said leaning on the bed in a manner much like how Ara was, “She was really cute not really the smoking hot kind of girl and she was into sports. Like she’d come to all my games and cheer me on, or even yell at the team afterwards if we lost, oh and she was the captain of the swim team so I got to see her in a swimsuit a lot… even if it wasn;t a bikini it was still nice.”  
  
Well that girl sounded perfect for Alfred, “Why did you two break up?”  
  
“She left me for this really nerdy guy.” He shrugged, “It was cool though.”  
  
“Who came after her?”  
  
“Lili, but she was way too innocent, and her older brother was a total gun-nut. It was crazy scary.” He thought for a moment, “After her was Clara, another total babe, but it never really clicked between us.”  
  
“Seems like you’ve dated a lot of girls huh?” Ara said with a bit of an uneasy laugh.  
  
“What about you?” he asked her quietly, “I’m sure there were men before Mr. Bonnefoy.”  
  
“There were…” she thought for a moment to see if any named clicked, “… I’ve forgotten their names, mostly because the relationships were so brief, if they were even relationships to begin with.”  
  
“So you got around a lot.” He laughed.  
  
“You’ll understand when you’re sexually liberated, and no longer living with your parents.” She said standing up again suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed.  
  
“I will?”  
  
“Of course.” She turned to look at him, “Are you hungry, I’ll order us something to eat. Peter won’t be home until after ten, and I’m a terrible cook.”  
  
  
The two of them ate pizza, and Alfred had left around five. Ara cleaned up the bedroom, washed the sheets and cleaned the bathroom, doing her best to make sure that there was no sign the teenager had been in her home. The next couple of days went pretty much the same, though there was something a little more daring in her life. Alfred would come by daily and while there was no sex there were kisses behind the closed door and excuses for why he was there on a daily bases made. He’d tell his parents that she had a heavy box to move to the attic, a high light bulb that she couldn’t reach. And it all made sense, after all her son was still a growing boy and her husband was all the way in France all the time, so the Jones saw their son as doing a good service for the woman. Naturally they had no idea the true kind of service he was supplying her with.  
  
Ara sat on the couch, her cell phone out as she sent messages to Alfred. He was in school, the state wide testing was over and the little messages he would send her made her smile. It was usually silly little things about how he thought she was pretty or how badly he wanted to kiss her, or have sex with her. The kinds of things she supposed teenage boys sent to the girls that they were dating, and as silly as it all was it made her feel like she was young again and she found herself smiling at the messages as the phone would vibrate announcing that she had received a new one. Suddenly the front door of her house opened, she quickly closed her cell phones eyes darting to the clock it was far too early for Peter to be coming home.   
  
_”Mon Cherie!”_ the voice of her husband called out. She quickly stood up tucking the phone in her pocket, what was he doing home, “Ara my love!” he called again, and she hurried into the foyer where he was standing the luggage he’d taken with him at his feet.   
  
“What are you doing home?” she blurted out standing in the door frame that lead to the kitchen.  
  
The smile he wore shifted into a frown, then he chuckled covering his mouth slightly with the back of his hand in the way that he normally did, “Is that anyway to greet your loving husband after you’ve not seen him in a month?” he closed the front door and locked it behind him walking towards his wife.  
  
“But you’re not supposed to be home yet.” She really wanted to say _I don’t want you to be home yet._. But she couldn’t he was her husband and even if his always being gone made her feel lonely she still love him and wanted him to be there with her.  
  
Francis lifted his hand and gently cradled her chin between his fingers. Without another word he pressed his lips to hers. The beginning of the kiss was falsely chaste (like all his kisses normally started) then he would part their lips for a quick breath and move in again, this time titling his head and opening his mouth a bit to move his tongue into her mouth; though this was always with class, elegance and taste (more aggression was meant solely for the bedroom).He was quick to press their bodies together and stroke her hair and back. “I missed you.” He whispered. Ara knew the routine well, it would start with a kiss, then he’d pet her hair and whisper that he missed her… that was the cue to move things up stairs. Despite her cheating, she couldn’t really say that she objected to wanting to move on to the obligatory sex. It wasn’t only what he was expecting from her (and why do anything make him suspicious) it was also guaranteed to be enjoyable (he really did know what he was doing).  
  
“Peter won’t be home for at least another three hours.” She said in a whisper matching his tone (telling him when their son would be home was also a part of the dance).  
“I don’t need three hours… but I’d be glad to give you that long.” He kissed her lips again and took her hand to lead her up the stairs, but she didn’t move, “Is something wrong?”  
  
“I need to turn off the television—I’ll be right up though.” He nodded and she moved back to the living room. Quickly reaching in her pocket to delete the messages she’d been exchanging with Alfred off of her phone. She then sent one more to him:  
  
 _Francis is home. Talk to you later._  
  
She pressed send tucked the phone away and headed up stairs to join her husband in the bed she’d tainted.


	7. Chapter 7

“How long is he going to be back?” Alfred had asked, stopping by while Francis was at work and Peter was off at his friend’s house. School had ended and he had graduated from high school at the very top of his class. Ara was holding the boy lose to her kissing his neck and the bottom of his jaw (careful not to leave any marks)   
  
“I’m not sure.” She looked over at the calendar, there was no new blocks colored in to show the days her husband would be in Paris, “I suppose he’ll probably be here at least until after his birthday.” She was running her fingers through his hair tenderly looking up at him.  
  
“When is that?”  
  
“July fourteenth.” She chuckled a little, “Kind of a perfect day for a Frenchman to be born.”  
  
“Why is that?”  
  
“Bastille Day—“  
  
“Oh so I have the perfect birthday for an American then!” he said cheerfully, his blue eyes so bright behind his glasses, “It’s the Fourth of July.”  
  
“Is it?” she laughed a little bit, “You know as someone who is English I can’t say that makes me particularly happy. Will you be leaving me then?”  
  
He suddenly looked very serious, “No way! Mrs. Bonnefoy, you know I love you. Seriously I can’t imagine ever splitting with you.”  
  
Ara blinked. Had he really just said that? She blinked again, it felt so weird hearing those words from his mouth and in all honesty it even made her feel a little guilty. He was young enough to be her son, he was a golden boy who had not only the rest of his life in front of him but also practically the whole world. At the same time though it made her feel so good, he could have anyone in the world; anyone at all: a model, actress, heiress… yet he wanted her. “You shouldn’t say those kinds of things?”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
 _Because it’s stupid._ is what she wanted to say, but decided to go with, “Because you’ll make me feel cocky.”  
  
“Oh, well that’s a bad thing, doesn’t Mr. Bonnefoy tell you things like that?”  
  
The answer she knew he wanted to hear was ‘No’. It was kind of true, he’d never once told her that he didn’t want to ever not be with her. He hadn’t asked her for a divorce either, but the way that he was always so quick to go back to France for business, it was like he was saying that to her. At the same time though whenever he was around Francis had the ability to make Ara feel as if she was the most important thing not only in his life, but in the whole world. He undoubtedly made her feel wonderful and yet he could make her feel lonely just as well and as easily. She sighed a bit, “No, he normally just tells me that he loves me then says something in French.”  
  
“What kinds of things?”  
  
“I’m not sure” it was a lie, she was damn good at French (well at least at understanding it), “But I’m sure it’s something overly romantic and cliché.” She laughed a bit, “and the fact that it’s in French I suppose just adds to the whole ‘cliché’ thing, wouldn’t you agree.”  
  
He laughed too, then pressed his lips against hers. He was become more and more the aggressor in the relation, along with getting more cocky. There was a certain charm to seeing him grow like this in such a short period of time. It was like Ara had helped him grow from a high school boy into a young man ready to be out in the world—well in the world sexually. He placed his hand on the small of her back and began to kiss the nape of her neck; careful not to leave any marks (Francis would surely notice them and she had warned Alfred to be careful) but with enough passion that she could truly feel it. His soft lips were becoming swollen and as he spoke the tickled her skin. “How long do we have?” between each word a minimal kiss on her skin.  
  
It took quite a bit of dedication and hard work to look towards the clock that hung on the living room wall. She’d been using the clock more and more since Francis had gotten back and Peter was no longer in school. When it came to her husband he didn’t get off of work until five, then he would go to the grocery for fresh ingredients for dinner. With her son on the other hand he didn’t really have a schedule. He would go out with his friends, to the pool, hang out at one of their houses, hit up the mall—there were lots of things really and he would only come home to grab some food or hit her up for money. The money would come with the warning of a phone call normally, but the coming home for food was more random. “We should have enough time…but we’ll have to be quiet.” He kissed her lips hard practically stealing her breath.  
  
He looked disappointed, “So I can’t make you scream?” Ara just stared at him from the shock of his words he was really getting cocky wasn’t he? The boy then laughed and she found herself laughing as the two of them headed up the stairs and to the bedroom.  
  
  
When they’d finished with the act Alfred took a shower. The windows were opened wide and the door still locked to ensure privacy and air out the room from the smell of sex. She washed the sheets, taken a shower herself and around for forty-five kissed him good bye before busying herself with neglected work. Around five thirty the front door opened and Francis returned with groceries in his arms. Ara stood up from her spot on the couch and walked to join her husband in the kitchen. He seemed less jovial than he normally did. Was he suspicious that she wasn’t being faithful? When he looked at her and calmly said “We need to talk” she felt her heart race with nervousness.  
  
“What—What is it?”she said looking at her husband with wide eyes.  
  
He sighed as he placed a pot on the stove for the water to boil. “Ara—you know how I am always going to France?”  
  
She gulped, was he about to confess to his cheating? Was he about to let out what he was really doing over there? Had he gotten his little Parisian girlfriend knocked up? Her head was spinning, “Yes.” She said suddenly feeling angry along with anxious. Then suddenly she said what she’d been thinking for more than a month now, “Is it because you’re cheating on me?” her tone was hostile?” to say he looked shocked would be an understatement, “Because if so I’ve known for a while now? What’s the little whore’s name?”  
  
“’Whore’s nam—‘”  
  
“Yeah what’s her name Monique?”  
  
“’Monique?’”  
  
“So it is Monique! Francis how could you do something like this to me? What kin sod example are you setting for Peter—“ she suddenly gasped, “you got that little slut knocked up didn’t you? Oh Francis you’re cruel!” she was full on yelling at him, “I can’t believe that you would ever—“  
  
“I’m not cheating on you.” He said looking positively confused.  
  
Ara stopped and stared at her husband mouth wide open. After a few moments she shut it. “What was that?”  
  
“I’m not cheating on you.” He repeated.  
  
“Then why did you say that we needed to talk.” She felt like an idiot. There she was yelling at her husband in the kitchen, accusing him of being unfaithful, and cheating on her with someone that didn’t exist. But she was the one unable to keep vows and unable to stay a faithful wife… her whole relationship with Alfred was based off of a lie that she’d come up with, a ridiculous story that just wasn’t true… “You’re not cheating—“ she was ecstatic that he was in love with her had self control and found her satisfactory even when thousands of miles away.  
  
“Of course not.” He laughed a little bit and moved closer to her pressing a kiss to her forehead then to her lips, he was cradling her face in his hands a smile on his lips as he looked down into her green eyes. He kissed each of her cheeks, then her lips again, her forehead one more and went staring back into her eyes. “I could never.”  
  
“Never? You’ve not been tempted.” She suddenly felt guilty  
  
He laughed and kissed her again. “Not a man alive has not been tempted.” He kissed her again then held her close, we need to talk about something different.”  
  
She felt her body relax almost melting at he held her even if at the bottom of her heart she was feeling truly guilty. “What is it then?”  
  
He sighed but continued to hold her, “They need me to move.” He said quietly into her hair.  
  
Had he just said what he had said? Did the people at his company really want him to drop his whole life in favor of running off to Paris? Did they expect his family to drop everything too? “You said no right?”  
  
He shook his head, “I couldn’t—“  
  
Ara suddenly pushed her husband away, “You couldn’t—what do you mean you couldn’t.”  
  
“Mon petite chou, what was I to say ‘Fire me. I cannot move to Paris’.” He scoffed, “Really Ara with the way things are now I need my job look at how well it pays—“  
  
“Oh but you can force your son and I to give everything up just to keep a job?” she was yelling again.’  
  
“No, not at all.”  
  
“You’re son doesn’t know French.”  
  
“That’s not my fault. As I really I was the one who tried to teach him to your protests.”  
  
“Why would he need to know French?”  
  
“He can’t speak to his Grandma and Grandfather without me acting as a translator.”  
  
“Why couldn’t they learn English?”  
  
“You’re just being selfish!”  
  
“No you are the one being selfish. And enjoy the couch tonight!” she yelled storming out of the kitchen.  
  
“I’m selling this house and we’re leaving in August.” He shouted after her.  
  
Ara ignored him (though she did hear what her husband had said) and went straight to the bedroom she’d tainted an hour ago with Alfred. She couldn’t believe how stupid she’d been. She’d been cheating on her husband for the last month all because she thought he was cheating on her, but he had been faithful, and with the way he had held her so close and his willingness to move the whole family to Paris, it was proof he didn’t have some little hussy over there and a whole entire different life. She sighed laying herself down on one of the uncased pillows. Ara couldn’t believe what she had done. She really truly couldn’t believe she was the one who’d committed all of the wrong in the marriage and was so quick for revenge for an act that never happened. For as rational as she thought she was, she was beginning to realize that all of that was just some kind of ridiculous fantasy she’d made up; a stupid story, just like her husband sleeping with another woman.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Ara was feeling increasingly guilty. It had only been a couple of days since Francis had come out and stated that the family would be moving to Paris; all though she hadn’t initially agreed to it and had even thrown a fit she had no other choice but to move too. When Francis had told Peter about the move the boy was furious throwing what could only be described as a temper-tantrum and it was one bad enough to rival the one when he was eight and really wanted a new racing bike. The boy was still complaining under his breath and threatening to go and become emancipated. Peter would leave right after waking up and go off to spend the limited time he had with his friends every single day. Francis was less cheerful then he usually was when home due to the stress his job was causing his family but he would still do his best to convince his wife and son that moving to Paris was a good thing. He’d call Ara into the study to look at apartments and townhomes, tell her about the neighborhood, and say repeatedly about how much more wonderful their lives would be one they moved. He was also speaking French more often much to his wife and son’s displeasure, insisting that now was a great time to get some practice in; both just went on speaking English.  
  
The worst part of all this was that she couldn’t find the courage to tell Alfred that she would be leaving the country indefinably. Every day he would come over eager to please her. The two would have sex, and if time permitting Ara would hold him in her arms for a little while, stroking his hair and telling him sweet things. He was living blissfully unaware that one day soon she would be leaving for Paris. But he would be leaving this town soon too, to go off to college and while the university that he choose wasn’t nearly as far away as France and he would be coming home for holidays he would still be leaving. The two had always been on limited time ever since this whole thing began, and the way that she was going on without letting him know that was eating her up.  
  
“Today’s Mattie’s birthday.” Alfred said snuggling into Ara shoulder. She nodded and made a low noise in the back of her throat. It was the kind of noise that parents would use to make it seem like they were listening even though they weren’t really paying attention. He then went on seemingly blissfully unaware of it. “So that mean’s I’ll be turning eighteen in three days… so what are you going to get me?” he made a quick movement so that he was on his hands and knees smiling at her (if he were a dog his tail would surely be wagging).  
  
“Eighteen?” Ara had heard that word most clearly and made a face. He was only seventeen? She had been sleeping with a seventeen year old this whole entire time, “You’re not eighteen yet?” she stared at him completely silent with her eyes wide. He just nodded and continued on with his smiling, “What? Why did you never tell me you were underage.”  
  
“I thought you knew. I mean I _just_ did graduate from high school.”  
  
“I thought people did that when they were eighteen—“  
  
“Or seventeen, some people do it even younger!” he said with a sly grin then pressed a kiss to her lips, he tried to up the rating but Ara refused him and kept it on the chaste side, “Come on, what does that matter, you’ve been doing it with me for what..” he paused to think, “A month now. I’ve just got three more days and I’m an adult. I can vote, smoke, and buy porn.”   
  
Ara had her face in her hands embarrassed by the fact that she didn’t know his age. _Oh god…_ she thought even though her actions had already been done and Alfred couldn’t be given his virginity back… but still there she was with her three days to being legal lover. Her voice was muffled, “What do you want?”  
  
“What was that?” he seemed to be enjoying her behavior which lead her to feeling even more embarrassment.   
  
“What do you want for your birthday?” she repeated.  
  
“Oh!” he smiled, “Guess.”  
  
“Just tell me.”  
  
“Then it won’t be a surprise.”  
  
“Would you act like you’re going to be an adult in a couple of days?”  
  
“But I don’t want to know until I see it.”  
  
She sighed before saying, “You know you’re just making all of this worse.”  
  
He laughed brightly before kissing her check, “I’m going hop in the shower, want to join me?” his voice dropped an octave as he gave her a lidded smile, “It’d be a good pre-birthday gift.”  
  
“I should start the laundry.” She said standing and redressing, “I’ll get in once you’ve left.”  
  
He looked back at her from the thresh hold that lead to the master bath, “You’re coming to the cook out right?”  
  
“What are you talking about?”  
  
“On the fourth my family always has a huge cook out, and well like everyone in the neighborhood is going to be there—“  
  
“You want me to go to your birthday party? Really I’ a woman in my forties that is ridiculous Alfred—“  
  
“No it’s for Independence Day—“  
  
“I’m English, attended would be like completely betraying my homeland.”  
  
“Oh come on! You came last year and before that too. You’ve got to come, how else will you be able to give me my present on time?”  
  
“I’ll manage it somehow.”  
  
  
“What about this one.” Franis said to his wife as dinner was cooking on the stove, Ara looked at the photograph he was holding; a living room with smooth dark hardwood floors, a fire place along one wall that was covered in brick and a window that took up a good portion of one of the room’s walls.  
  
“The living room is nice.” She said quietly, “But how big is it?”  
  
“Two bedrooms two bathrooms, a kitchen and this living room, it’s in a beautiful neighborhood though. You know having to pay extra for a good location.”  
  
“It’s okay then.”  
  
“Just okay? Ara I want you to love the place we’re moving to. Honestly as your husband your happiness truly atters to me.”  
  
“What about Peter’s happiness, he hates the idea of moving even more than I do.” She placed her palm on the kitchen table with enough force to cause a slapping sound, “What about his happiness?”  
  
“He’s a teenager, teenagers are never happy.” She gave him a look he however ignored it and continued on, “He’s also a teenage boy, so he can get his own happiness, it’ll just take a pretty little neighbor girl… preferably one who likes short skirts and low cute tops—“  
  
“You’re a pervert.”  
  
“No I’m not. I simply know that my son is my son and enjoys the same things I did at his age.” He opened up the folder he had on the counter, “I’ve been looking into school’s too, and I managed to find a good one that would be more sensitive to the needs of our son.”  
  
“What are you going to do send him to a Catholic Girls’ School?”  
  
“No. Though I think he would enjoy being the only male student the answer is still no. It’s one of those American schools. The ones where they have classes in English it’ll make up for his inability to speak French.”  
  
“I thought you all hated English.”  
  
“It’s not really hate, it’s people’s inability to really appreciate French’s beauty. There for what comes off as a hatred for your language is simply just love and adoration for our own.”  
  
“You’re an idiot.” She paused and added, “A pervert too.”  
  
Francis smiled, “Mon chou, you seem to like my perversion though, But if you’re starting to fall out of love with it, I don’t have to wait to reconvert you.” He leaned over the island wearing his seductive grin. His smile was normally seductive, but this one was the one that was intentional.  
  
 _Be strong Ara!_ the woman thought, “There will be none of that.” She had no objection to afternoon sex (after all every time her and Alfred had had sex was during the daytime) there was no need for her husband to know that she didn’t mind the sunlight on her bare skin, “And you’ll burn dinner acting out thoughts like that.”  
  
“Fine then I’ll change the topic. What are we bringing to the Jones’ barbeque this year?”  
  
“Pardon?”  
  
“You know the cook out they have every single year. The rule it to bring a dish as well, I was thinking we could get a bit fancy and bring a long wine—“  
  
“I don’t want to go.” Ara said quickly, there were too many chances for that to go beyond wrong.  
  
“We go every year.”  
  
“So, we won’t go this year.”  
  
“I’m going.”  
  
“I’m not.” The woman said very in a very matter of fact way.  
  
“Why not?”  
  
 _Because I’ve been sleeping with one of their underage sons for the past month, and dear god I wouldn’t be able to look either one of them in the face…_ she thought. Her words were however, “The weather is supposed to be terrible. I’d rather not.”  
  
“Fine then, but I’m not cooking dinner and will not bring you a plate of food home.”  
  
“I can cook for myself.”  
  
“Then do it.”  
  
“I will.” She said with a huff and crossing her arms deciding that the argument was over and the best way to illustrate this was by ending it the same was a twelve year old would.  
  
  
“I can’t believe I am doing this.” Ara said standing in front of the Jones’s residence her arms full of the large container of potato salad. Francis had one of his arms over her shoulder, the other one holding a bag with five bottles of fine wine, and a huge grin on his face, and Peter was standing there in his Swim trunks ready to jump right into the pool that was in their backyard.  
  
As the two entered the backyard, which was already a buzz with all of the neighbors chatting away, music blasting, the children splashing, squealing, and playing, and the smell of grilled burgers and hotdogs the two were greeted by Mrs. Jones. The woman was rather beautiful in the kind of way that was impractical for a woman in her forties and rather unrealistic for just a suburban house wife. Her hair was a light brown, curly, and in a bob. The whole aura around the woman screamed glamour, style, and sophistication and Ara had always found her intimidating (the fact that she was sleeping with her son though just made it even harder to look at the woman. “Thanks for coming ya’ll.” Her voice had a bit of a Texas twang to it..  
  
“Pleasure as always, Madame Jones.” Francis said in the smooth way he normally addressed women. His voice silky and full of the promise that he found the lady attractive (no matter how she looked physically) he even took her hand in his and kissed it in truly corny fashion. Ara rolled her eyes and Mrs. Jones giggled like a teenage girl.  
  
“Oh stop it! Your wife is standing right there Francis.” She playfully swatted his shoulder, “And my husband is just over there.”  
  
“Honestly you can have him.” Ara said in a bored tone, “Just make sure you never burn a meal or he will never let you live it down. I should also warn you he’s a flirt—though you can probably already tell that—he’s a bit lazy as well as over dramatic, and spoiled. Though his biggest flaw is being French and there is no way to fix that.”  
  
Francis gasped dramatically covering his face with a hand, “And you are supposed to be my wife!”  
  
“I’m just being honest.”  
  
Mrs. Jones’s laugh was bright and cheerful, “Oh you two are always so much fun! Here give me that potato salad I’ll go stick it in the fridge until that one that’s already out is gone.” Ara handed over the dish, “Oh and that bag too Francis, I should go stick that wine in the fridge too.”  
  
“Oh but that would be way too much for you to carry.”  
  
“I’ll be fine I promise.”  
  
“Are you sure you don’t need my help?”  
  
“I’m sure, you’re a guest after all,” she paused then called out, “Alfred!” Ara tensed up right away, “Alfred!” she yelled again this time the boy climbed up out of the swimming pool.  
  
“Yeah, Mom?”  
  
“I need you to come on over here and help me with this bag.”  
  
The newly made adult walked over to the three with a huge grin on his face. In all honesty if it weren’t for the fact that Ara had already seen his body naked and wet before she would have been pleasantly surprised at what she saw. “Hello Mr. and Mrs. Bonnefoy.” He said with a nod and not a hint of what he and Mrs. Bonnefoy had been up to for the past month. Ara mentally took a sigh of relief as he walked off with the bag and container of potato salad.  
  
“He’s such a good boy.” The English woman said, feeling as if remaining silent would be rather awkward, “I could never get Peter to do me a favor.”  
  
The woman smiled, “Oh I tried my hardest to make him into a southern gentleman. There isn’t a woman alive who doesn’t like to hear a polite, handsome young man call her ‘ma’am’. Wouldn’t you agree?”  
  
Ara’s mind quickly flashed to all the times Alfred had referred to her as ‘ma’am’ while she rode him, panted words of affection, asked if he loved her, and felt her face get warm. “I believe that I have to agree with that statement completely.”  
  
Luckily another set of neighbors walked through the wooden gate and Mrs. Jones excused herself to greet them. Francis was waved down by his two troublemaking friends, and went to join them. Ara feeling the heat begin to get to her went to get herself a cold drink in the shade. _I don’t think she suspects a thing._ she thought placing the unopened coke can to her cheeks willing away the blush. At least it was hot and humid so if anyone suspected a thing the heat could be easily blamed.  
  
“Where is my birthday gift?” she jumped at the sound of her young lover’s voice behind her.  
  
“Alfred!” she said placing the soda can back to her face, “You startled me.”  
  
He laughed, “Oh come one Mrs. Bonnefoy, where’s my present you told me you would make sure it wasn’t late.”  
  
“I didn’t buy you anything.”  
  
He looked disappointed, “You didn’t but you said—“  
  
“I also said that I would not be coming today… did you ever think that maybe my showing up to this cook out was your gift.”  
  
“That’s a sucky gift.”  
  
“Aren’t you supposed to be an adult now? Really Alfred—“  
  
“I am an adult. He then leaned in close to her and whispered, “I even bought a pack of cigarettes today.”  
  
“You know you shouldn’t smoke—“  
  
“I know I just got them, cause you know I could.” He said with a bit of a shrug.  
  
“Oh dear god.” Ara said though it was at a low tone, low enough that he hadn’t aught what she’d said. She looked around a bit nervous then thought of the most daring thing she’d thought of in her whole life. “Meet me in the house in half an hour. “I’ve something I want to show you.”  
  
He looked around to make sure no one was paying attention to the two of them and nodded. “Got it Mrs. B.” he then placed a smile on his lips, grabbed a coke from the cooler and headed off to join his friends in the water again.  
  
Ara sighed, “What the hell am I doing?”  
  
  
The next thirty minutes went by agonizingly slow. Every single pair of eyes that landed on her she feared was someone judging her, someone who knew what she was planning. Every conversation she had made her feel even more so. As each minute passed she was feeling more and more guilty, though at the promised time she still excused herself from the party (fearing is she didn’t Alfred would come out of the house and accuse her of standing her up). There were enough people there that she really wouldn’t be missed, Francis was preoccupied with his friends Gilbert and Antonio as the three drank beers, and Peter was the kind of boy who would never come running and looking for his mother. She made her way to the perfect living room with photographs of the family all grinning, trophies and awards that Alfred had won (and some of his brother’s as well though those were fewer).   
  
“Where’s your room?” Ara asked quietly the moment that Alfred walked through the door.  
  
“In the basement.” Was all he said, “the right hand door—“  
  
She reached her hand out to him and said in a dead serious manner, “Show me?” her voice was airy already. He took her hand careful to make sure that no one else was in the house and lead her down the basement stars. “I’m sorry that this is going to have to just be a quickie,” Ara said with a slight smile as Alfred pushed his door open, “But if we take too long someone is bound to notice.”  
  
He nodded and locked the door.


	9. Chapter 9

It was getting closer and closer to the day of the move. Nearly a month had passed since Alfred’s birthday; luckily the two’s absence had gone pretty uh unnoticed by the rest of the party, or at least that’s what Ara assumed. Francis never once questioned her where she’d gone off too, nor had his friends Antonio and Gilbert. None of the neighbors inquired either and there were no dirty looks or glares from them saying that they knew what she had really gone into the house for. The day the Bonnefoy’s would be moving to France was still getting closer and closer.  
  
Ara had begun to pack things up. It started with stuff that they really didn’t use anymore, mostly clothes that no longer fit her (yet she’d been holding on to—just in case she ever got around to dropping three sizes), books, photographs, little things like that. She kept the boxes in the basement and garage, careful to make sure that Alfred didn’t see them. She wasn’t ready yet to tell him that she was moving; the sign for the front yard had yet to be put up because of this and sat in the garage with an increasing number of boxes. She didn’t want to disappoint the boy just yet, even though she knew it would have to happen increasingly sooner.   
  
Francis spent more days at the office and more of his time home trying to convince his wife of various apartments that he liked. The two finally settled on a town home with three bedrooms, a large living room, decently sized kitchen and dining room, a couple of bathrooms and a loft. It was the kind of place people dreamed of moving into and rather pricey, but part of their moving to France was that Francis was going to be getting a pay increase, and since Ara’s work was done online she could continue with that even if she was going to be living in another country. Peter spent more time away from home, but he had accepted that they had to move and was ready to do so (though with a sour attitude).  
  
As Ara sat in the living room packing up the rest of the room one afternoon she heard a knock on the front door. The cheerful rhythm of the knocking told her it was Alfred, even though he was the only person who would be coming around at this time of day. After all Francis had work and Peter was determined to spend as much time as possible with his friends. Without a word she opened the door and let him in, then shut it again. Alfred looked around the entrance way, the photo graphs and table were gone, and when he peaked through the walkway to the living room his eyes fell on the box. “You’re painting?” he said half excited, “What color?”  
  
“I’m not painting.” She said quietly unable to look at him.  
  
“You’re not—then are you remodeling?”  
  
“Not that either Alfred—“  
  
“What’s going on?” he said quickly, when she didn’t answer him repeated himself, “Mrs. Bonnefoy, what’s happening.” Her shoulders began to shake and a tear fell from her cheek and hit the wooden floor, “Tell me what’s wrong?” he looked terrified and placed his hands on either one of his lover’s shoulders. “Did—did—did he find out?” that he whispered. She just shook her head and the teen sighed with relief, “Good.” In one motion he wrapped his arms around her body, “Then there’s nothing to cry about.”  
  
“Yes there is.” She said quietly against his shirt, “We can’t be together.”  
  
“If Mr. Bonnefoy doesn’t know why cant we—“  
  
“Because I’m moving!” she shouted, “I’m moving to France in a few weeks.”  
  
“No you aren’t there is no sign out—“  
  
“I didn’t want you to know! It’s in the garage if you don’t believe along with the boxes and everything else.”  
  
He let go of her and backed away a couple of steps just watching as she stood in front of him. Neither one of them said a thing as Ara continued to cry. Then Alfred spoke his voice was hoarse and her was on the verge of tears. “I thought you loved me…”  
  
She sniffled, “I did—I mean I still do—“  
  
“THEN WHY ARE YOU LEAVING ME?” he yelled, “TELL ME, HUH? WHY ARE YOU GOING IF YOU LOVE ME STILL!” he stopped yelling as she looked up at him, “I thought… sorry… why…”  
  
“If I weren’t moving you would be leaving me anyways.”  
  
“I would never—“  
  
“Alfred, you’re going to college, you’re leaving me.”  
  
“But I’ll just be there for the school year and there are breaks—“  
  
“Oh come on. Isn’t that selfish, of you to expect me to wait around while you’re off at school having parties, and there are girls at school too. If I am was unable to stay loyal to my husband while he was away what makes you think I would be faithful to you?”  
  
“Because you love me?” he looked like a lost puppy standing there eyes wet, “I thought we could really be together and when I got out of school we could get married and have a life together—“  
  
“Why are you so sentimental?” she took a deep breath and sat herself down on the stair, “Alfred what we had was a fling, I choose you off of purely physical lust and reasons. I will admit though that I grew fond of you on a higher level but…” she was starring down at her hands, “…this is what’s best I won’t be able to hold you back—“  
  
He punched the door making the frame shake.  
  
“Alfred—you’ll ruin that—“  
  
“Good if I destroy it then you can’t go.”  
  
“Stop acting like a possessive child.” She couldn’t really blame him though.  
  
“I don’t want to.”   
  
Ara stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know, but try… you’re a grown up now, aren’t you?” she pressed a kiss to his cheek, “And when you’re a grown up things you don’t want to have happen, well they happen.” She moved her hand off of his shoulder and gave him a weak smile, “You’ve got to change and adapt and—“ she sighed giving up and sitting back on the stairs as the two moved into another silence a less tense one.   
  
“What do you want me to do?” he said after a moment, watching her carefully.  
  
“Leave.” She said immediately, “Leave. Forget about me. Go to school. Get a degree. Meet a nice pretty young girl, marry her and have a lovely little family.”  
  
“I don’t want to forget about you.”  
  
“THEN JUST GO ALFRED!” she shouted, “JUST GO! AND IF YOU LOVE ME LIKE YOU SAY THEN AT LEAST TRY!” she was full on sobbing with her head in her hands.  
  
Alfred watched her. He watched her for what felt like hours sitting there and crying then without a word left. When Ara heard the click of the door behind him she looked up through her tears and whispered “Please don’t forget about me…”


	10. Chapter 10

Ara sat in the living room of her Parisian townhouse. It had been nearly six months since the family had moved away from their home in the United States. Francis was home every night ready to cook dinner and do some loving on his wife. Peter was adjusting to his new life here, his French was getting better but his accent was still horrible, but as his father had predicted the boy had become more well adjusted after meeting some pretty girls (even though he was the foreigner now he was still into non American girls). Ara had adjusted too, she was even used to the glares that the older woman next door gave her.

Everything was looking up… but at the same time she couldn't help but think of Alfred. What was he up to now? Going to school? Dating some pretty little thing like one of the girls he had told her about after that first time she'd had sex with him.

She shook her head trying to rid her thoughts of the young man. She was supposed to be forgetting him. After all she'd asked him to forget about her (even if it wasn't what she wanted). The boy was just so well loyal to her and she had to admit that she felt more guilty after having to break it off with him than she had the whole time they were together; even if he was under aged when they'd started things off, and she had been committing adultery the whole time. The whole desire and reason to cheat had turned out to be invalid. Francis looked at Ara as if she were insane when she accused him of having another woman who kept him company on warm Parisian nights while he was away. She knew that she should be putting all of that behind her for good but she just couldn't.

Again Ara shook her head. This time she opened up her laptop and went to doing her work. As she read through the emails, one stood out in her mind:

 _The woman I loved told me to forget her and that we had been together, but it's impossible for me to. She lives far away now and I've done everything else she asked me too—except for get married and have kids, I'm way too young for that! But I've got a pretty_  young  _girlfriend like she asked me to… but honestly this lady's still on my mind. What should I do?_

It was him. It had to be hi. Ara felt her eyes well up as she began to type up a response.

_She was an idiot. Don't listen to her._

Was all she sad. She posted her answer and as she closed her laptop began to cry again.


End file.
